


The Highest Price

by sunkelles



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, Female Friendship, Femslash, Morally Ambiguous Character, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Unrequited Love, Uther's Purge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:29:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2000307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chronicle of Nimueh and Ygraine's intertwining lives, up until the point of Ygraine's death when Nimueh's string starts to unravel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Highest Price

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I don't even know what to say about this one. I guess there is one thing: Nimueh was in love with Ygraine and no one can tell me differently.  
> Also, Alice is a damn interesting character and I wish that she would have had more time in canon.   
> I hope that you all enjoy it. This fic took a lot of effort, but I'm proud that I stuck with it. It turned out pretty damn well.

Nimueh’s story is a complicated one. Her beginnings are humble. Her mother was a servant in Algar de Bois’ household. Her childhood is average. Her mother loves her, and she tries her hardest. But nothing happens quite like her mother hopes it will. Sometimes, Nimueh’s magic acts up. Sometimes, she makes things happen, things that she doesn’t intend. Her mother tells her that she must conceal it.

 She never has never had quite enough to get by until Nimueh takes the job of maidservant to the Lady Ygraine.

* * *

 

 Lady Ygraine de Bois is an anomaly among nobility, at least that’s what her mother tells her. Most nobles do not interact with their servants aside from telling them what to do. Ygraine deigns to speak to her on her first day. And she does not make it seem like she is deigning; Ygraine makes it seem as though speaking to Nimueh gives her pleasure.

“So your name is Nimueh?” Ygraine says. Though she phrases it as a question, Nimueh does not respond. Her mother told her not to speak to her new mistress. Ygraine looks to her in confusion for a moment. Nimueh sighs internally upon changing her mind.

“Yes, my lady,” she says respectfully with her eyes downcast.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Ygraine says, “The titles, the downcast eyes. I’d like to be friends.” The words are tentative, and Nimueh doubts if she has ever had a friend in her life. She doesn’t know what to say, but she lifts her eyes to meet Ygraine’s. They are a bright blue, full of life and kindness.

“I’m sorry,” she says, trying to backpedal, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, if you’re not comfortable-“

Nimueh laughs in response, and she hopes that is sounds as kind and friendly as she intended.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and then she pauses a moment.

“I would like that, to be friends with you,” she finishes, a smile tugging at her lips. Ygraine’s face lights up, and she immediately starts telling Nimueh all about upcoming feasts and asking her questions about her life and favorite holidays. It suddenly occurs to Nimueh that she’s never had a friend before either.

* * *

 

Suddenly ends start meeting, and Nimueh’s life is looking brighter, though her mother seems to be growing ill. She enjoys her job. She does not mind mending her lady’s fine dresses or tending to her needs because Ygraine’s presence is pleasant. The idle thoughts that pass past her lips are as interesting as the philosophical ones. They all leave Nimueh a little bit more enthralled with her lady.

 

* * *

 

No matter what Nimueh’s mother says about hiding her magic, Nimueh must admit that it has uses. Mainly chore-related. Quick spells to clean the dresses, dust the floors, and sometimes just to make that stray hair stay in place. It’s really no harm, until Ygraine sees her removing a stain from her yellow velvet gown.

“Nimueh?” she asks cautiously.

“I have magic,” Nimueh says by way of explanation, by way of apology.

“I-I see,” Ygraine says, and she just raises an eyebrow. It’s silent for a moment; neither woman knows what to say.

“I wouldn’t have gotten mad,” Ygraine says softly, “if you’d told me.”

Nimueh doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing. Ygraine smiles sadly as she exists.

* * *

 

 Relations are a bit stilted between them for a few weeks after that, but things fall back into place. Time has a way of healing most wounds. They are laughing and smiling at each other and exchanging familiar, blithe touch

 

* * *

es soon enough. Their routine remains undisturbed for a few more weeks, before Ygraine makes her suggestion.

“I think that you should study with the court sorcerer,” she says, and it doesn’t sound as much like a suggestion as a proclamation. Ygraine has a tendency to do that.

Nimueh makes a noncommittal sound and then Ygraine’s face turns serious.

“I really think that it would be good for you,” she says.

And then, with her tone a bit lighter and a whole lot flirtier she adds, “You can hone your skills.” Nimueh hates it when she does that. She can’t say no to her. Nimueh also can’t tell where she stands with her at these times, but that’s beside the point.

Nimueh sighs, but she says, “fine.” Ygraine’s face lights up, and Nimueh knows that she made the right choice.

* * *

 

 Nimueh has to admit that actually studying magic is highly interesting. She has never had actual resources for it. She has just had to muddle through it with guess work, and it’s nice to have someone to guide her and actual resources. And doing magic, actual magic without fear is a sort of liberation. The magic itself feels warm and alive inside her skin and it tingles her fingers when she does spells. It’s satisfying in a way that she never thought it would be, but it really is.

 

* * *

 

Nimueh starts spending less and less time at home after she starts her lessons. Her mother passes a few months later, though her condition has been deteriorating for longer. NImueh feels as though the world has been ripped from beneath her feet and she’s going to plummet into some sort of endless darkness. Ygraine catches her.

 

* * *

 

 Ygraine’s attempts to cheer her up are surprisingly subtle, and Nimueh really appreciates it. Sometimes Ygraine can be blunt. The compliments are well placed and the gifts are small enough that Nimueh can feel herself growing happier without feeling like Ygraine is over doing it. One of them is a small pendant, made of a lovely, blue stone. Nimueh is not even positive that the other woman is actively going out of her way during this week to make Nimueh feel better until she makes her big offer.

“Would you like to sleep with me tonight?” she asks and it’s with such a blithe smile on her face that Nimueh knows that she doesn’t realize what she’s implying. But Nimueh knows that’s blushing red as a tomato. Ygraine, the adorable, innocent woman that she is doesn’t seem to notice.

Nimueh knows that she really should refuse, but she can’t muster up the energy to say no while every part of her is screaming “yes”. So she gives in and says what she’s been internally screaming aloud.

* * *

 

 One night becomes many which becomes Nimueh living in the “antechamber” of Ygraine’s rooms. The nights are warm and friendly and wonderful, and though Nimueh wishes that they would turn to more, she does not allow her feelings to fester. She wants this to be enough, especially since it is making her feel so much better, so much less alone.

 

* * *

 

 “Do some magic,” Ygraine requests one night, right after she has put out the candle. Nimueh rolls over from her side to her back and looks up at the darkness.

Nimueh pauses a moment and then asks, “What do you want to see?”

“ _Anything,”_ Ygraine says, her tone awed by the possibilities. Nimueh considers them for a moment, and Ygraine’s right; they are infinite. She decides rather quickly though, and says the spell softly.

A small horse of golden light appears just above their heads and starts galloping around the room. Ygraine turns to her and her eyes are lit with both the light from the spectral horse and with some sort of wonder from deep inside her. Nimueh is sure that she has never seen anything so beautiful. Ygraine grabs Nimueh’s hand and uses it to point to the horse, telling her all about the detail that she’s put into it and Nimueh is sure that she can’t smile any wider.

* * *

 

If these nights spent wrapped into each other, as if they are the only two people in the world, are slightly more than platonic, no one has to know. Nimueh doubts that her feelings are reciprocated anyways.

 

* * *

 

These days are wonderful, as Ygraine and Nimueh come to know one another better. Nimueh continues to study magic, and they spend nights in Ygraine’s rooms. They are too perfect, too _halcyon_ to last, and Nimueh knows that they must end, no matter how much she wishes that they won’t. These days end when Uther Pendragon prances into their lives atop a black stead. The new, arrogant king has conquered Camelot for himself. He speaks loudly and confidently of his dreams of reuniting the kingdoms and brining about a new golden age. Nimueh knows that this is not possible, because her golden age has just ended, but Ygraine is enamored with him and his honeyed words.

She falls in love quickly and completely, and Nimueh isn’t sure which of the two brings her more pain.

Uther brings her flowers and promises and Ygraine in return gives him her heart.

* * *

 

 Nimueh knows that the words are coming before Ygraine speaks them, know that the woman has been thinking them long before this walk through the halls of her father’s castle.

“He’s wonderful,” Ygraine says.

“I think that I love him,” she says.

Nimueh does not respond because Ygraine does not expect her to, and she’s nigh positive that she could not keep her voice from breaking.

 

* * *

 

Uther publically proposes a day later. Tristian does not care for Uther, and Agravaine and cares for him less. They both publically oppose the union. But Ygraine adores him, and Algar adores his power and wealth, so a date is quickly set for the wedding.

 

The wedding is lavish and gorgeous, completely befitting a king and his queen. Uther is clad in his armor and a cape with the newly crafted Pendragon crest. Ygraine wears a lovely white dress. It looks amazing against the pale gold of her hair, and she looks like an angel. Uther Pendragon is a lucky man.

 

* * *

 

They set off for Camelot a few days later. The ride is not more than two days long. Soon they can see the pristine, white castle of Camelot off in the distance, and soon after that they are crossing into the city. The castle is much bigger than Algar’s, and much beautiful as well. It feels grand and a little foreboding. Nimueh doesn’t know how she feels about it yet.

 

* * *

 

The weeks pass quickly, and Nimueh quickly begins to feel at home in Camelot. She misses the life that they used to have where they were able to sleep in the same bed and talk long into the night about their dreams, but she understands that it cannot be like that here. She misses it, but she loves the castle. She even makes a few new friends, primarily, the court physician Gaius. He’s well-read in all types of medicine and many fields of study, but his studies in magic have been stilted. Nimueh is happy to give him a hand. She is the Court Sorceress.

 

* * *

 

 “Try it again,” Nimueh says. He speaks the spell again, more firmly this time, but it has no effect.

“You have to feel the magic,” she says. Gaius just glares and the implication is strong: you’re not helping.

“You have to feel the magic around you and just focus on it; channel it to your will,” she says. She thinks that this description will help.

 It does. A ball of bright, white light appears in front of Gaius. He smiles a wide smile, and then they move on to other spells.

* * *

 

 Ygraine and Nimueh are walking through the spacious halls of Camelot when Ygraine asks her question.

"You don’t like Camelot, do you?" Ygraine asks.

“No,” Nimueh is quick to deny, “I like Camelot.” And it’s true. Camelot feels like home.

“But you don’t seem happy here,” Ygraine says sadly.

“I miss you,” Nimueh admits.

“But you see me all the time,” Ygraine protests.

“I miss falling asleep in your rooms,” Nimueh hating how nostalgic and pathetic she sounds, “I miss talking about our hopes and dreams.”

“We can’t have that anymore,” Ygraine says, and she sounds just as sad as Nimueh feels.

“I know,” she says, “I know.” They continue their walk in silence, savoring the time that they can have to themselves.

* * *

 

 Nimueh is practicing magic in a clearing when the king comes to speak to her. She knows this is strange because the king never speaks to her.

“My wife says you’re a powerful sorceress,” he says. Nimueh can’t figure out what he’s getting at.

“I’ve been told so, your majesty,” she says, unsure of what else she can say.

“I don’t trust magic,” he says.

“But Ygraine trusts you,” he says.

“That makes you worthy of my trust,” he finishes. Nimueh does not know how to respond. The king turns from her, his Pendragon red cape billowing behind him. Nimueh does not speak as he walks away.

* * *

 

 Soon there is a large, extravagant feast. The guest list includes a woman named Niniane, a high priestess of the Old Religion. She does not deign to do any petty parlor tricks. She eats and drinks in her fine robes at the high table, and does not make her intentions known until it is well into the feast.

“Nimueh,” she says. Her voice has a resonating, other-worldly quality to it, and Nimueh finds herself shivering, and a bit afraid. She does not know why the woman wants to speak to _her._

“You are the Court Sorceress of Camelot, are you not?” she asks. For a moment, Nimueh’s tongue is completely tied.

But she manages to say, “Yes.” Both the king and queen have stopped whatever conversation they were engaged in, and have shifted their attentions to Niniane and Nimueh.

“I understand that you are powerful,” she says. Nimueh does not respond, and she doubts that Niniane expects a response.

“I would like to invite you to study with the high priestesses,” the woman says, finally dropping the offer she has been alluding to. Nimueh does not know what to say. The offer appeals to her. She would like to further her abilities, but she does not want to leave Camelot. She looks to Ygraine in a question, because she knows that Ygraine will snap her out of it.

“I think that would be a wonderful idea,” Ygraine says, and the words are like a punch to Nimueh’s gut. Ygraine _wants_ her to leave.

“It would require a lot of study,” the woman says, “most take five years to complete the training, but I feel that you could do it.” Nimueh is not really listening, she is still thinking of how Ygraine wants her to leave. It’s a sort of pain that flows through her, and a sort of anger too. She feels a need to show Ygraine that she can leave, that she will, and that she will miss her. It’s immature and irrational, but she can’t stomp it out.

Nimueh’s mouth has gone dry and her throat burns. The words come out gravely and insincere, “I would love to.” None of the present company seem to notice as they start making preparations for her departure.

* * *

 

The training to becoming a high priestess does not take overlong for Nimueh to complete. It takes three years, though for most it takes five. They say that Nimueh is gifted, and they want her to stay with the temple. But three years have passed slowly for Nimueh while she could only think of Camelot. She does not understand why she left in the first place. Ygraine’s words were like a punch in the gut, but she should not have given into her desires for revenge. She has not enjoyed her time away.

She misses Gaius, and she misses the way the castle had started to feel like home. She even misses Uther and his indefatigable ambition, but mainly, she misses Ygraine. Three long years she has spent away from her home, and she will not wait another moment. She will return to Camelot.

* * *

 

Camelot, she finds, is not quite the same as she remembers. The walls are the same, as are the people, but the overall feeling has changed. Before, it was one of hope and celebration. The moment that Nimeuh steps foot inside the wall, she can feel a sense of desperation and dread. She walks through the lower town, which is reserved instead of festive and full of life, and makes her way to the castle itself. She puts a simple concealing charm on her cloak and is able to enter the throne room easily. When she sees that both Uther and Ygraine are sitting atop their thrones, Nimueh removes her cloak.

  
She has always had a bit of a dramatic flair.

Uther’s wearing a look of shock that Nimueh can’t read, but Ygraine’s is full of pure joy. Something soft passes her lips, something that looks like “Nimueh”. The queen rises from her throne and engulfs her friend in a hug. Nimueh’s head rests on the other woman’s shoulder, and she breaths in her scent. Ygraine’s arms wrap around her, and Nimueh’s own find their way into Ygraine’s soft hair.

  
“You’re back,” she whispers, “You’re finally back.”

“Yes,” Nimueh says, “I’m back.”

“I missed you,” Ygraine whispers softly, conspiratorially, as if these words are intended for Nimueh and Nimueh alone. They hug for what might have been a few more minutes, but didn’t feel like long enough, with Ygraine’s body pressed against hers before the queen breaks the hug.

The king clears his throat, and for a moment, Ygraine looks a bit embarrassed.

“It appears that Nimueh has returned,” he says.

There is a momentary pause before he continues, “We shall be holding a feast in her honor. Tomorrow.” The court seems stilted, but a little bit is lifted at the announcements. Feasts are always incentives.

* * *

 

 Afterwards, she goes to find Gaius. Gaius is bound to have the most information on the situation, and is easier to get a hold of than Ygraine. She is still the queen.

 The physician has not changed too much in the past few years. His hair now has hints of gray, but he does not look old. He seems older, in a way. He has a certain sort of knowledge that’s weighing on him. He tries to make nice when she comes in. Gaius and a woman that Nimueh does not know are stirring potion ingredients over hot fires. Gaius looks up and meets her eyes. Then, he almost spills the contents of his flask.

“Nimueh?” he asks, though he knows that it’s her.

“The one and only,” she says with a slight smile.

“I didn’t know that you were back,” he says. There are emotions in his voice that she can’t identify. It sets her on edge.

 The woman looks between the two of them and then says, “I’m sorry, I don’t think that we’ve been introduced.” There is a hint of a threat in her tone: she better not be competition. Nimueh almost laughs, but keeps it inside. She has soft features and deep black hair.

“This is my friend, Nimueh,” he says to her, “She left three years ago to study with the high priestesses.” Then he turns to Nimueh.

“And Nimueh, this is my fiancée, Alice,” he says.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alice,” Nimueh says in all honesty.

“Oh,” Alice says, realization setting in, “You’re the one who taught Gaius magic.”

Nimueh smiles, “that was me.”

“You’re still not very good,” she says, and Nimueh can’t tell if she’s being serious. Gaius glares.

“It’s alright,” she says with a flourish, “not everyone can be as naturally gifted as Nimueh and I.” Nimueh decides that she likes Alice. Then, she turns her mind back to the issue at hand.

“Gaius,” she says, “What's happened. Something seems wrong.” Gaius pauses, and it is not a thoughtful pause. It is the pause of someone who does not know what to do.

“I am sorry,” he says, “but I cannot say. It is not my place.” Nimueh has never decided if she liked or disliked that about him, his unwavering loyalty to other people’s secrets.

“I won’t press it,” she says. Alice looks between the two of them, and sees the tension, but refuses to acknowledge it.

“Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” she asks.

“No, actually,” Nimueh says.

“You’ll stay with us, then,” she says, “We have a spare room.”

“Thank you,” Nimueh says, though she wonders what tomorrow holds. Almost as much as she wonders what has caused the clouds to settle over the land.

* * *

 

 The feast is highly uneventful, the way that most feasts are. The noblemen drink too much, and the high ladies gossip about everyone and everything. Uther offers Nimueh her position back, and she accepts, though she wonders if there is ulterior motive. The nobles are too joyous in this moment, the king too giddy, and the atmosphere has livened considerably. The king thinks that her presence in Camelot will solve whatever the problem is, and now all Nimueh needs to do is figure out what.

 

* * *

 

 The next day, Nimueh finds the queen alone on a walk. She pulls her aside.

Nimueh does not waste time and gets straight to the point.

“What happened while I was away?” she asks. Ygraine stiffens at her bluntness, but Nimueh looks her straight in the eyes. Ygraine sighs.

“I cannot conceive,” she says softly. Realization floods over Nimueh.

The only response she can muster is, “oh.”

Ygraine laughs, but it is not her joyous, youthful laughter. It sounds bitter, foreign to her ears.

“ _Oh_ is right,” Ygraine says, though these words are slightly less harsh than the laugh.

“I am glad that you are here again,” Ygraine says softly, sincerely. She pauses a moment, and Nimueh knows better than to speak.

“Things have not been the same between Uther and I for a long time,” she says, “I am glad to have a friend.” Nimueh smiles a small smile. At least she can be _that_ for Ygraine.

“I learned a lot of new spells while I was studying with the priestesses,” Nimueh says, and that piques Ygraine’s interest. She smiles a curious smile.

“Would you like to see some?” Nimueh asks, though she already knows the answer. Ygraine laughs, and this one sounds more like the one she had as a girl, and then she grabs Nimueh’s hand. They run for the clearing hand in hand.

* * *

 

Uther does not approach her until three days later. She has taken up residence in her old chambers, and the king knows where to find her. He enters her rooms that evening quietly as she is pouring over one of Alice’s book of herbs.

“Nimueh,” he says, his voice devoid of its usual confidence. He’s standing in the doorway, like he can’t decide whether to be inside the room or without.

“Your highness,” Nimueh says, and she is not even sure she is over doing it with the formality. She never knows where she stands with Uther.

He does not correct her, and gets right to what he needs to say. He has never been any good with small talk (much like Nimueh herself).

“Ygraine cannot conceive,” he says. Nimueh does not tell him that she already knew this. She waits for him to continue.

“I need an heir to continue my line,” he says, “and Ygraine wants a child. We must have a child.”

“You have an extensive knowledge of magic,” he says, then he pauses a moment.

“Do you know- is there any way for us to have a child?” he asks, and his voice breaks.

Nimueh smiles at him, which might be a first, and she says, “I think so.”

“What is it?” he asks, though it sounds more like an ecstatic demand.

Nimueh’s look turns serious.

“There is a ritual,” she says, “where a life can be exchanged for a life.” Uther’s breath looks like it has hitched.

“I ask you,” she says, “is that too high a price to pay? If you do not want to, we will forget that I mentioned it.”

“No,” he says, “I offer my life willingly.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, because she is not sure that he should be so quick to make this decision. It is important and enormous. His life hangs in the balance.

“I am positive,” he says.

“We will get to the ritual as soon as possible,” he finishes, and then he finally moves from the entry way out of her door. Nimueh sits back down with her book of herbs and wonders which book she brought back with her contains the instructions.

* * *

 

She finds the correct book and the correct page the next morning. It is in a book concerning ancient rituals, and it is called the life-bringer. The spell is complicated. It requires a powerful spell to be cast on a complex potion, but Nimueh knows that it will not be terribly difficult for her. She is gifted with magic.

 

* * *

 

 She casts the spell a few days later, and she knows that it was successful. There is a sort of feeling of awe and residual magic after a successful casting, and Nimueh feels this, and feels it tenfold in comparison to any other spell that she’s ever cast. Now all is left is for Ygraine and Uther to consummate the spell, and Nimueh knows that they will do it quickly.

 

* * *

 

 Three months later, it is announced that Queen Ygraine is pregnant. The kingdom seems to come alive, the old jovial atmosphere returning from wherever it went. Ygraine glows with joy, knowing that the child that she has always wanted is on the way. The whole kingdom is aflame with the fire of the king and queen’s bliss, and no one is exempt from the happy anticipation, even Nimueh.

 

* * *

 

 Nimueh and Alice, who are both accomplished in witchcraft easily foster a friendship. Alice knows the deal that must have been struck between Nimueh and Uther in order for Ygraine to conceive, though Gaius does not.

“You’re really taking a gamble here,” Alice tells her one day, “asking the Old Religion for a child.”

“Uther volunteered his life,” Nimueh says. Alice frowns.

“You know that the Old Religion takes the highest price, Nimueh,” she says, “You’re a priestess.”

“IS the life of a king not the highest price?” Nimueh asks. She is confused.

“What is offered is seldom the highest price _,”_ Alice says softly, and suddenly, Nimueh is filled with a sense of dread.

* * *

 

The pregnancy progresses normally and Ygraine remains healthy as the child within her grows. Nimueh almost forgets her worries, but Alice’s words still echo in the back of her mind: _what is offered is seldom the highest price._ She tries not to allow her worries to fester, though, as she listens to Ygraine babble happily about baby names and speculate about what her child will look like.

 

* * *

 

 Nimueh enchants Ygraine’s gowns to grow with her during pregnancy. Ygraine appreciates it.

 

* * *

 

 As the birth approaches, Nimueh finds herself worrying. Uther, though, has resigned himself to his fate. The pompous king has never seemed so at ease, and Nimueh is almost sorry that he will be giving his life for this.

 

* * *

 

 The day that Ygraine’s water breaks, the whole kingdom starts moving quickly and frantically. Both she and Gaius come to the room where is Ygraine is to deliver along with Uther. Nimueh sits to Ygraine’s side as she contracts, and the other woman grasps her hand so firmly that it hurts. But Nimueh cannot blame her. She understands that giving birth must be terribly painful. Gaius is saying something, probably intended to be comforting and help Ygraine through this, but Nimueh is not paying attention. Ygraine grabs her hand, more forcefully than any of the times before, and Nimueh wonders for a moment if it might break. The scream pierces the air, and then, a moment later, Gaius is holding a bloodied bundle of baby. Nimueh looks to Uther, for she knows that this will be his last moment. The child is born; the balance must be restored; their debt must be repaid. But Uther still sits, still breathes, still _lives._

 

But the hand she holds in hers no longer grasps back and a look of terror is in Gaius’ eyes. She looks beside her, and sees that Ygraine is lying on the bed, the life gone from her. The balance has been restored, but it has stolen Ygraine instead; she is the highest price.

 

_What is offered is seldom the highest price._

Nimueh’s throat constricts as her world shatters around her. The tears claw their way out of her sockets and fall violently from eyeballs, just like the raging tempest inside of her. Within moments, Uther is free from his shock and he is shouting and crying along with the rest of them, but his rage is directed at Nimueh.

“This is all your fault!” he shouts, and his words are full of a sort of toxin Nimueh thinks could kill. She cannot say that he is wrong, but the angered defense flows from her lips anyways.

“No, it’s yours!” She shouts, her own words more poisonous than she anticipated, “You’re the one who so desperately wanted an heir!” Gaius is clutching the babe, looking in horror between the two of them.

“You _knew this would happen!”_ he shouts, and his hands are clutching her shoulders. Nimueh has never been so frightened in her life.

“You meant to take her from me, because you couldn’t have her!” The accusation hits her like a herd of cattle, and Nimueh cannot even find the words to respond.

“Sire!” Gaius says, and his angered words seem to break the king out of his enraged trance. He lets go of her shoulders and glares deeply at her.

“Leave us,” he orders. Nimueh does not need to be told twice, and sneaks out of the chamber.

* * *

 

The walk back to her chambers is agonizing. Nimueh knows only two things: Ygraine is dead, and the king blames her. He is not completely wrong. Nimueh’s guilt weighs down on her like the weight of the world. The woman that she loves is dead because she took a gamble with her life. She should have known, she should have _known_ that Ygraine would be the price demanded. The pact was made between herself and Uther, and Ygraine was the most important person in the world to both of them. Of course Ygraine would be the price. Nimueh could not even comprehend how she had deluded herself into thinking otherwise. She buries herself into the covers and tries to melt into their soft warmth, to forget the world around her, but she cannot.

She cries all the tears that she has to shed before she finally falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

 The next morning, before the light comes through her drapes, Gaius tears open the doors to her chambers.

Nimueh awakens in a haze, and her words come out sounding groggy and ill-prepared, “Gaius?”

“You need to leave,” he says, and he sounds both determined and saddened.

“What?” she asks. His words make no sense. The king is angry, but it will blow over. She knows that it will, or at least she hopes that it will. Ygraine or no Ygraine, Camelot is still her home. Her friends are here, her work is here, and her livelihood is here. She can’t simply leave.

“The king is planning a purge,” he says, “he blames magic for Ygraine’s death, magic and you. He will kill you. You must leave now.”

“What are you saying?” she asks, because though his words rang loud and clear in her ears, she could not process them. They were too ludacris.

“The king is planning to kill all magic users,” he says, “starting with you. Nimueh, you’re my friend. You must leave now.”

“What about Alice?” she asks. Alice is her friend too. She needs to know that she will be safe.

“I’ve gotten her out,” he says.

“What about you?” she asks, her tone a bit lower, more serious.

“I don’t think that I can leave,” he says, “I don’t that think there’s time.”

“Of course there’s time,” Nimueh says, “you can leave with me. We can meet up with Alice!” If she has to leave, maybe she won’t have to leave everything behind.

“I haven’t the courage,” he says honestly. They exchange a look and then Gaius says one final word: go. Nimueh grabs a single dress and a pendant that Ygraine gave her, and then she sneaks out of the castle.

* * *

 

The first few days on the run are full of fear and anger. Slowly the fear melts away, and leaves only anger in its place. She hears of Uther’s atrocities. He went through with his plans, killing every mage he could get his hands on. He drowned them, he hanged them, and he burned them at the stake, all because of his own mistake. Nimueh refuses to feel guilt over it anymore, not after Uther’s deeds. His far outweigh her own.  She returns to the temple, and wonders if either Gaius or Alice still live. She studies her magic, increasing her strength, and learning to understand and revel in the religion that she once did not understand. Nimueh needs to amend the ignorance that once stole her whole life away.

She misses Ygraine. She misses Camelot, but her sorrow is not as great as her anger.

Someday she will get her revenge on Uther Pendragon, but today is not that day. Eventually, it will come. But she is not ready to face him again. For now she studies, she waits, and for once, she allows her feelings to fester.


End file.
